Dying to Be Him
by Shekiah Rosay
Summary: Jack and Cal are puzzled by the fact that they're suddenly feeling jealous of one another, of all people.  Rose has turned their lives upside down, and neither of them are certain any longer what they want from life.  Two indepedent introspectives.
1. Jack Dawson

Inspired by a Fall Out Boy lyric, this little drabble is my first Titanic story EVAR!1! Which is really quite silly, because I have been positively in love with Titanic for the last eleven years. The story is written from Jack's point of view and talks about how he looks at his relationship with Rose and wishes he didn't have to ask her to throw away her life for him. It's kind of a window into the mind of a character who seems ridiculously self-assured, and I'm kind of setting out to prove that there were times he doubted that he was Rose's best choice. Anyway, I don't own Titanic. Enjoy - and I 3 reviews! ;)

* * *

_Isn't it messed up, how I'm just dying to be him?_

Of all the things I am now and have ever been, 'myself' is near the top of the list. I know who I am. I've always had a pretty strong sense of self – maybe because when that's all you have, you hang onto it for dear life. I've never had to be anything for anybody else, so I've always just been Jack. Particularly after I lost my parents. When you're sleeping under a different bridge each night, there's really no need for anybody else's approval.

The way I saw it, the only person I would ever be living for was me.

But that all changed when I met her.

Suddenly, I'm not good enough. On so many levels. And don't get me wrong – she's done nothing but reassure me that I was exactly all that she needed since day one. But the thing is, I'm _not_. To stay with me, she would have to give up everything about her that makes her the person she _is._ The person she always has been.

If she chose me, she would be going from riches to rags, down pillows to rolled-up moth-eaten jackets, leisure and homemaking to life as a seamstress somewhere. It would be a shitty life – a life that she wasn't brought up to face. It's wrong to ask somebody to do all of that for you. But she's made it pretty clear that she's not giving me up or going anywhere.

So why can't I be _him_?

When Cal Hockley brushed shoulders with me in the first-class dining hall, I felt something unfamiliar. A burning resentment – a strange dissatisfaction that I could have almost called _anger._ He was him. I was me. And it wasn't fair. She wouldn't have to change for him. She could keep her mother and her friends and her life.

He had so much more to offer. For the first time in my life, I wanted to have all that. Simply so I could offer it to her. I've never wanted to be anything but me, but suddenly I hated myself for not having wool suits and Cuban cigars and a wine cellar waiting for me in the United States. For the first time, Jack Dawson the artist wasn't enough.

Is falling in love supposed to feel like this?


	2. Cal Hockley

I watched Titanic over the weekend with my boyfriend, and I noticed several scenes where you see that Cal actually feels a lot for Rose. I'd always kind of looked at the movie from a black and white perspective and assumed Cal was the villain, but he had his side of the story, too. And it really freaked him out to suddenly feel jealous of Jack of all people. So I gave him a point of view as well. :) Titanic belongs to James Cameron et al.

Enjoy!

* * *

I never hurt you except in anger. And I was never angry with you unless you treated me unjustly or inflicted intentional pain.

So I don't understand why you loathe me so much.

I have so much to offer – in terms of finance, in terms of respectability, even in terms of love, if only you would let me. You are the only one I have ever desired, and I want nothing more than to make you happy. So why do you do nothing but run away and seek love other places?

If it's anger against your mother, I understand. She taken your future into her own hands and left you powerless, and I can only imagine how infuriating that must be. But for the love of God, Rose, don't blame me for her mistakes. I didn't ask that she make your decisions for you. In all honesty, I wasn't given much choice either. But I never held that against _you_.

Imagine for a moment that I could be the one to make you happy.

I will readily admit that I'm jealous, petty, spoiled, and I can sometimes be cruel. But there is a man beyond all that. That man wants to give you the world – and he probably can.

Think about it, Rose… I can give you everything you ever wanted, along with so many things you never even _knew_ you wanted. But I know better than to continue holding diamonds and other trinkets over your head. Clearly, material possessions are not what you desire. You want a sense of freedom – and that's the one thing my lifestyle doesn't offer.

I have forever been content to live in my position – the shrewd businessman, the polished aristocrat. I was taught to feel pride in who I am, and I do. I never could have imagined, in a thousand forevers, that I would feel a sense of jealousy for the kind of man I would ordinarily toss a few pennies on the street in passing. But for the first time in my life, a part of me burns for that lawless, freewheeling lifestyle you seem to crave so much. The lifestyle you've found in _him._

What if you were being forced to marry him, and I was the way out?

Would you love me then?


End file.
